


So Much For a First Time

by orphan_account



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M, Off-World, Requited Love, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-11
Updated: 2009-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time goes nothing like they planned it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Much For a First Time

The thunder rolled in with an anthropomorphic intensity that made Daniel think of long-dead gods. The sky flushed gray, the distant mountains black against it. The wind seemed to blow upward.

Since sleeping wet is its own kind of special misery, they dropped everything to set up camp, regardless of miles to go and promises. And speaking of gods, they were set up and under warm blankets moments before the drops started to blow in sideways, attacking the tents like spittle.

It was too early to sleep; there was nothing productive they could do, but in the darkness Jack and Daniel could see the faint glow of a lantern in Teal’c and Sam’s tent. No surprise those two found something they could be doing.

They talked a while, pressing together in a slant rhyme of cuddling: thigh against thigh, elbow tucked beneath elbow. It was unspoken but open, by then, between them. They’d never acted on their attraction. It was never that sort of relationship--Daniel’s raison d’être was finding Sha’re, loving Sha’re, and Daniel was not the kind of man for whom those sorts of things could coexist. But still, what they had went back before the time he lost her.

Daniel knew, with certainty, that Jack was the next chapter in his life. If he had to lose Sha’re (and he didn’t think of it that way, it was unjust, not fated) he was grateful for what he had with Jack. He knew Jack was too, although of all the conversations they’d had—first cars, first loves, relative merits of sweet potato fries—they’d never had that one. But Jack had warmed to him instantly, easily, and when Daniel looked at Jack’s smile-lined face he knew Jack saw _him_ as his next step, too.

But they hadn’t taken the physical step. There was a plan to do that, also unspoken, but still, perfectly clear between them. When they were supposed to get back to Earth the day after tomorrow, it would be Friday, and Jack was going to barbecue. He’d asked Daniel to bring wine, and there’d been talk of Saturday activities, and that had been that.

At the moment, Daniel thought the day after tomorrow seemed like a long time away. There was heat building, slow and steady under the blankets in the places where their bodies were pressed together. The rain was starting to come down steady; it would have been comforting if it weren’t so loud. The conversation had petered out into silence.

Daniel wondered if it was the pure force of his fantasy that did it—he’d let himself picture the two of them in bed, rather than on the hard ground, naked, not with layers of fabric between them, and he’d only gotten started on some nice but rather frustrating speculation about whether or not Jack enjoyed performing fellatio, and if so, what sort of enthusiast was he—a pure sensualist? Someone who relishes the pure proximity—the feel, the smell, the taste? Or the opposite—a sort of ascetic . . . someone who relishes putting his partner’s pleasure before his own, delaying his own, who . . . Daniel was hard from it by time Jack interrupted him with a kiss, slow and easy across in the darkness.

It was gentle but not tentative, and not even a smidgen unsure, clear and confident as if they had discussed it all beforehand. Daniel wrapped his arms around Jack and kissed back just as sure, and even though he felt like he was throbbing with need, it didn’t become urgent. It didn’t have to be, both of them were old enough and self-disciplined and long accustomed to self-denial.

So then, so much for the plan, so much for a first time with wine and sweet-smelling sheets and sleeping late together, learning one another's bodies in the predawn light. It felt like cheating, to go against the plan, but in a good way—like when they cheated death or cheated fate, the way they always did.


End file.
